


Exceptional

by ellie-nors (flamewarrior)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Public Humiliation, Semipublic Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamewarrior/pseuds/ellie-nors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like it should have been that much of a surprise to him, if he'd thought about it (which he hadn’t: that way lay insanity and a dishonorable discharge).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exceptional

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Lunar Wolf

The first time it happened, Sheppard came so hard he had jizz on his chin.

It’s not like it should have been that much of a surprise to him, if he'd thought about it (which he hadn’t: that way lay insanity and a dishonorable discharge). But yeah, he'd always gotten a little... tense when parade sergeants had insulted him - everything from his parents to his shoe polishing skills, the color of his liver to the level of his manliness. (Especially the latter, if he was really honest. God forbid he ever be that honest with himself.)

But it was - a surprise, that is - when he'd started getting hard over the memory of that Wraith queen. He couldn't stop thinking about it. All of his usual tricks for pushing horrific memories away, pushing them down, were powerless against the thrill of it, of her forcing him to his knees with a caress of her fingers in the air, the press of her mind over his body. He had been so mortified, so completely and totally humiliated; and she had seen into his mind, she had known it, and what that shame did to him.

It was the first time it happened, but it certainly wasn't the last. Masturbation was one of the few reliable ways Sheppard had of getting to sleep, and that memory, the hot, sick feeling of belittlement, got him off the fastest and the hardest. (Maybe even gave him some power back over the situation: _Taking back control, in your own mind_ , Heightmeyer might have said. _Whatever_ , might have been Sheppard's reply. But the conversation never happened, because he knew exactly how “confidential” that relationship really was, and exactly how to play that game if he wanted to keep his job.)

He got bored with the scenario after a while, and his subconscious started elaborating on it. Shadowy, disapproving figures appeared in the background. He couldn't see their faces past the glare of the lights in his eyes and the way the Wraith queen forced his gaze onto her, but he knew they were there: people who knew him, watching from the shadows, seeing. Knowing. After a while, his subconscious gave them voices: Sumner, Caldwell, Weir, all telling him what a little shit he was, how disgusting he was, what a worm he was, squirming on his knees down there, in thrall to a bug-creature with bad breath while his team was in danger.

It was twisted. It was vile. It was easily the hottest fantasy his sick mind had ever come up with.

He hated himself, in the brief moment between coming and sacking out. The rest of the time he didn't think about it, how he got off on being put down, but sometimes it would catch him unawares during the day. McKay was the worst. Being insulted and ordered around like that by a civilian, in front of his military subordinates or otherwise, was not something Sheppard allowed (was allowed to allow). He was used to quelling it with a sharp, "McKay!", or a growled, "Rodney." But now when it happened he was aware that reasserting his position as military commander wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do (was the opposite of what he wanted to do), and at night, while the Wraith queen made him kneel, while the figures of his commanders and superiors were still there, voicing their disgust at him from the shadows, the focus of his fantasy was on the human male who stepped forward into the sharp light in front of him.

"Look at you," Rodney would say, blue eyes burning, looking down at him; Sheppard himself was immobile, still, gaze fixed upward by the Wraith queen’s mind. "You're a disgusting excuse for a human being. You can't get up, you can't protect your people, you can't even admit what you want. Huh.

“I'm going to make you admit it," Rodney'd whisper, undoing his belt and his button and his zipper, "you dirty little subby faggot," as he pushed down his briefs, pulled out his cock, cupped it, hard and leaking, in his hand. "I'm going to make you take it, in front of everyone."

Sheppard's mouth would be filling up, overflowing with saliva, aware that all around him human and inhuman figures were standing - not just Sumner and Caldwell and Weir, but Zelenka, Grodin, Teyla, Ford, Ronon, every member of Atlantis personnel, alive and dead, every Wraith he'd fought and killed (and failed to kill), and, worst of all, Cowen, Kolya, Radim, David, Nancy, his _dad_ , all watching him take Rodney's thick, hot, beautiful cock in his mouth, on his tongue, right up to his throat, grunting and slurping as he tried to breathe, his own cock burning in his groin, hips thrusting forward and back, out of control but for his forced inability to be anywhere but down on his knees in full sight. God.

He tries to keep it under control: he keeps McKay in his place during the day; he doesn't let his imagination out except in bed at night. He thinks he's doing okay.

(Except for that time he was in the labs, waiting for McKay to finish up his equations for the day, and the images were in his mind before he could stop them: Rodney ordering him to clean the lab floor with his tongue, every square inch, and there Sheppard goes, in his own mind's eye, getting down on his knees without a word and doing it, with Kavanagh and Zelenka and all the scientists watching him, laughing at him, pointing out bits he's missed.

Yeah, except for that.)


End file.
